


The Other World

by MaukusNoise



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Fantasy Creatures, Fantasy World, Original work - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:35:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28780584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaukusNoise/pseuds/MaukusNoise
Summary: The Other World is alive at night. Adventures spill out over one another, desperate to be dived into.During the day a peaceful mist settles over the realm and the inhabitants snooze or chatter idly.There are thick enchanted forests, tangled swamps, black lakes with dancing humanoid-swans, towering snowy mountains and golden sandy beaches.Creatures great and small exist here. A familiar face is coming back across the seas, and a new arrival is thrown into chaos.





	The Other World

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I have been dreaming up over years and years of frustration over there not being enough fantasy films or books that i enjoyed.  
> I am stupidly picky, which is so dumb i know. If a book hasn't grabbed me by the first chapter I put it down.  
> And i got tired of watching the same movies over and over just because there aren't enough high-fantasy ones out there. 
> 
> So i threw all that into a world of my own. It's a constant mess of shifting ideas and mini stories. No real big plot as of yet, just descriptions and some characters.
> 
> I'm mostly keeping it here for myself but if anyone wants a read, go for it.

The Other World

Piece One. Coming by the Sea.

The boy riding in the Kaukau-nut coracle had been allowing his craft to drift along with the tide. He knows all water leads to the Other World, and so his nest floats uncaptained while he sharpens his knives and hunts for signs in the stars above.

Tonight we see him stretched out on his back. Moon-kissed eyes are closed, but he would argue to the end of time that he is not asleep.  
A few moments before we arrived, he was scouring the sky for the blue star in the West. The fractured glint of sapphire marks his home in the heavens, and he likes to spot it twinkling at him in the evenings.  
This night, he found it quickly, and smiles to himself now in memory of it.  
He often competes with himself of the previous evening, to see which can sight the star first.  
The sad truth is that when he loses the race, his heart hangs heavily and he does not look at the star again until the following night. Save for one glance as the sun rises to wipe every star from the sky.  
I am certain he regrets his negligence at these times.

For tonight though, he is contented. And he is about to have a pleasant surprise. 

Let us not spoil it for him. Perch yourselves up high, next to that blue star, and watch silently.

The Kaukau-nut shell is rocking now. Not enough to capsize, but the boys eyes are open and he has sprung to his feet. This churning current breaks at the edge of the Other World, and the coracle captain’s eyes are alight, watchful. 

I shall blow those clouds aside, so the fair lady Luna may shine some passage for the boy through the gloom.

There now.  
He has sighted those golden sands and we can hear his whooping cry.

He could lay back down again now. The coracle will quite happily find its own way there. But he has sighted the Other World, and will not rest.

Delighted, he strikes out for the shore, leaving the bobbing Kaukau-nut shell behind.

*

Piece 2. Sight over the Other World

When you dream, all sense of rules fall out of your head. Impossible wonders become clearer, brighter, within reach. For this reason, the Other World is more alive at night. During the daylit hours its inhabitants doze in the mists which no sun can fully penetrate.

Few adventures appear during the day, and far fewer inhabitants would choose to chase one at that time. Instead they snooze, they idle, they chatter soft nothings until Moon-rise.  
As soon as pale beams of light begin to tickle the mists into dispersing, a great ripple of glee shivers down every spine.  
Adventures pop up almost everywhere, out of holes in the ground, dropping from passing birds, emerging from the depths of wading pools.  
Everyone rouses to alight under the brilliant glow of their lady Luna.

She is a wonderful lady, brimming with romantic notions and a keen intellect. She entertains herself as she hangs over the Other World, high in the deep crisp black skies.  
One may often be taken to wonderings about how lonely she must be up there. But she is forever beaming at her friends below, so we put it from our minds for the moment.  
Her gown is dappled with gold, remnants from a long-forgotten dance once spun with the sun itself. Her hair shimmers in beads of silver, flecked through with snippets of the dark open skies behind her. Dreamy and delightful though she is, every evening she rises without fail at 7, save for weekends when all have an extra snooze until 9.  
Of course, none residing in the Other World can be quite sure when the weekend will be. This decision naturally falls upon their moon to make. She is especially kind with her choices, you will be pleased to hear. On the occasions when there has been a particularly large or lengthy adventure going on, she will often make the following day a weekend, so that all involved may get a proper rest. And always she makes sure to set a little early on the nights preceding the next dominant adventure, then all who take part may be at their best.  
It is for these wonderful gestures that the Lady Luna has gained the unwavering friendship of all who dwell in the Other World, and she wholeheartedly deserves it.

*

It is in the very nature of the Other World itself to have a landscape which is a constant mixture of every terrain you could imagine. Yet they all fit snugly together, not a seam is out of place.

The first thing you notice if you arrive, as most do, by sea, is the striking difference between the waters one is used to, and those of the Other World. This ancient water is the most beautiful, clear all the way down to the sandy bottom, tinged with touches of turquoise.  
As you pull closer to the golden shore, chalky turtles scuttle down the beach to join the merfolk in a warbling refrain. Their welcoming chant. It has been known to bring tears to the eyes of even the most frequent visitors.

Past the gleaming sands, you reach towering mountains standing like great meringue pyramids, each covered from tip to toe in thick blankets of snow. There are paths, varying in difficulty, each painstakingly tagged with a start marker at the base, then more arrows notched into rocks, or signs pointing you whichever way you wish to go. The more daring sometimes try their luck on the uncharted sides of the mountain range. Armed with snowpicks and lengths of rope, they determine to reach the summit by sunrise. So far only two have succeeded.

Beyond the mountains lies the jungle, set in a deep gorge, crouching at the mountains feet. The jungle is ready, snarling at any who approach it. The growls follow you as you enter its depths, and only cease once it is quite certain that you mean it no harm.

After this, tropical leaves change smoothly into boggy swampland. Bubbles ooze and pop for miles around, and the unwitting traveller may soon find themselves come a cropper in the tangles of roots and vines dogging the muddy ground. The trees here seem to bow as you pass, quenching their thirst in the swamp before straightening up once more to watch you pass. If you speak kindly to them, they may see you on your way. So you move along, clambering over gnarled brambles thick and heavy, until you find flatter, dryer ground. Here you have reached the rich pineforest, as dense and wild as ever any was, wrapped around the swamps and jungle leaves in a half-moon caress. These trees stand the tallest in all of the Other World. To scale one all the way to its highest tip would take unknown weeks. They have a taunting habit of growing again just as you think you are making progress. Perhaps their secrets are for their eyes alone. 

Let us now turn our gaze to the Great Black Lake. It lays spread across the far edge of the tallest trees, far out of the mountains reach.  
We have chosen an ideal night.  
The swans are out, and they are dancing.  
They are most unusual creatures, as can be said of all who dwell in this enchanted realm, but the swans hold a particular sway. They are what could be described as human in shape and size. Standing at their fullest height, many of their number reach over 6 feet, though they prefer to twist and curl. Each body is strewn with thick layers of feathers covering chests down to ankles. Fingers and toes are webbed but otherwise the arms and legs resemble humans.  
It is in their faces that any familiar humanity is lost.  
They do have mouths, noses and eyes, but the colours are eerie. Lips are lost in the skin, nostrils elongated into dark curved beak-like shapes, and the eyes which stare as we peak closer are all a deep melancholy black.  
Waves of hair lift as they twirl, feathers cascade in sweeping turns, all so pale that as we watch them dance, it strikes us that we may well be in the presence of beautiful ghosts.  
Although Kaukau-nuts are plentiful in the Other World, no coracles brace the waters of the Great Black Lake. This is not a fishing ground. Indeed, never has so much as a fly been sighted here.  
None knows what it is they eat, or whether such things are beneath them. Proud noble creatures, the swans, for their part, remain silent.  
Some have names, and others either do not or deny our requests to know them. Many rarely speak. The few who do are all names, and they keep in contact with the rest of the Other World, although you must always come to them.  
You will often see the winged-Lion touch down beside their lake to converse with Caedam, one of the oldest.  
For now though, we shall leave the ghosts be.

Through the forest of tree-giants, the land then moulds again into thinner woodland with glades and pools filled with flying fish. These trees bear fruit, although as each is born in the same yellowy pod, it is near impossible to tell which you shall get before opening, making pleasantly surprising work for scavengers. 

Deep within the cooler greenery, at the very heart lies the Lake of Mirrors. It is the smaller of the three lakes in the Other World, but no less important.  
A placid expanse of water, no deeper than you or I would be standing. Surrounded on all sides by a circlet of foggy glass. Each mirror stands freely, twisting slightly as soft young breezes chase one another, brushing past in their haste. Peering into the faded glass grants you no reflection. Only bright greyness stretching backwards into more murky grey.

It is in this moment when we have the place in our thoughts, that the mirrors surrounding the chilly water have started to glow.

***


End file.
